“‘That dog’ has a name, and it’s Sheba,” Human Male runs his hands through Sheba’s fur, “and I adopted her because homes with dogs are statistically safer from break ins.”

“I don’t think a dog could have stopped,” she stops mid-sentence and yawns loudly before continuing, “Mercury from waltzing into Lark’s room.” Human Female’s eyes are bloodshot, and there are bags under them. Every movement seems to demand a great amount of her energy.

“I’m going to train her to guard Lark,” Human Male says, “and she’s a good guard dog. Aren’t you, Sheba? Aren’t you the best guard dog?”